Chicken Curry Soup for the Soul
by Remasa
Summary: While conducting her weekly checkups on his disguise, Yukiko decides to teach Shuichi Akai how to cook. No pairings.


**_Chicken Curry Soup for the Soul_**

 _Spoilers through the Scarlet Arc_

 _A story for whitedragon2645, who suggested the prompt as a request._

 _ **Timeline** : A few weeks or so after Akai has moved into the Kudo residence._

The smell of cheap ramen permeated the air, overpowering even the deep comforting smell of the library's multitude of books. A tumbler filled with bourbon and ice rested on a neat coaster on the dark walnut desk, but bourbon had no smell. And he wasn't yet drunk enough to ignore the pungent aroma. He pressed his nose against the pages of the novel in his hands and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and reveling in the musty smell of wood pulp and _mystery_. It provided a brief respite from the offending odor, if only temporarily.

Still, cheap ramen smelled a hundred times better than burnt curry.

Shuichi Akai slid an offended look to the door leading to the kitchen. He had hated cheap ramen during his university days and he hated it even now. But dead FBI agents earned no salary and poor college graduate students earned even less. When Conan had offered up the Kudo residence for him to hide in after his small apartment burned down, Yusaku and Yukiko had – astonishingly enough – readily agreed to the little boy's proposal. And after a rushed and complicated explanation of how Conan was related to Yukiko that left Akai's head spinning just to follow the logic, Conan had eagerly helped Akai settle into the home. Which mostly involved Conan darting around from room to room for no apparent reason that Akai could surmise. But the boy appeared calmer at the end of his examinations, so Akai left it alone for now. It was still so odd how the boy managed to expertly navigate the labyrinthine hallways. There was a story behind that, he was certain. A story for another day.

Today's story involved how to survive on a limited income. The answer, sadly, appeared to be cheap ramen. Frugality at its finest. Ugh.

Yukiko had fluttered into the house a couple of days after he settled in and cheerfully pointed to a safe hidden behind a portrait of a white dove of all things, and spun the dial combination lock open to reveal a few stacks of bills. For him, she explained, for his needs. Akai had blushed and declined her generous offer, stating his lodging was more than enough and he had squirreled some money away when he planned for his death, but Yukiko was having none of it.

"Yusaku and I want you to use this for yourself," she chirped.

Akai fumbled a bit to find words. "Kudo-san," he began.

"Yukiko, please," she interrupted.

Akai cleared his throat and started anew. "Yukiko-san, I appreciate deeply the trouble you and your husband have gone though on my behalf, to house me for an indefinite period of time at merely the word of your uh..."

"Sister's aunt's nephew's grandfather's niece's son," Yukiko supplied effortlessly. Akai blinked. Was that what Conan had said earlier?

"Uh... your distant relative's word. I can't be taking your money on top of everything, either."

"Conan-kun explained your situation to me and we are more than happy to help."

"You trust me to show me your personal safe?"

Yukiko smiled. "Well, this one at least."

There was more than one? Impressive.

"If you insist," he said, only because he felt Yukiko wouldn't leave well enough alone unless he agreed.

But that didn't mean he would actually _use_ their money. He hadn't opened the safe much, only to withdraw just enough to make due from week to week. A pittance amount, really, but plenty to survive. And that's all he needed.

Except for a minor indulgence of his favorite alcohol, that is.

Yusaku's library occupied most of his attention. All those mystery novels. He almost wished he really could stay here forever, just to read the books.

A sharp whiff of an acrid scent ripped Akai from his pleasant musings. He frowned, placed a bookmark on the page with meticulous precision, gently set aside the book, and rose. He gulped the rest of the bourbon down in one swallow, picked up his empty glass and plate, and carried them to the kitchen.

The sight there soured his mood further.

In his desperate attempt to rescue his palate from over-salted ramen but still trying to stay within budget, Akai had decided to give a try at cooking his own meals. It would be cheaper in the long run, and his stomach would most definitely thank him later.

His first attempt ended in fire. Lots of fire.

His second left the pan so burnt he spent the better part of a week scouring it clean.

His third, fourth, and fifth attempts smoked, but didn't flame. Progress!

He poured over every book in the library searching for cooking advice and finding none. But honestly, how hard could it be? Turn on the oven, bake some chicken, set some rice to simmer, and a simple and filling meal should come together, right?

The latest attempt to make some curry was testament to that logic. He glared at the burned food and decided against cleaning up tonight. He scraped what he could out of the pan into the trash, filled it with water and a bit of soap, and headed upstairs to call it a night. He ripped off his wig and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. Ah, much better. Even though Yukiko had provided him with a high-quality wig, it still felt so _good_ to remove it at the end of the day. He didn't even know why he wore it when no one was around. He kicked off his slippers and flopped onto the bed in exhaustion. Sleep came immediately.

The next morning, he awoke to a glorious smell. Delicious, unidentifiable, and intoxicating. Mildly curious, he rose and wandered downstairs, where he heard faint noises in the kitchen. The smell intensified as he approached the door.

He peeked inside and noticed Yukiko humming a soft melody to herself as she stirred something on a pan over the stove. Uh oh, he had forgotten that today is the agreed upon day she stopped by to check on him. He glanced around but couldn't locate the dirty dishes from the previous night. He pushed opened the door with a tentative hand as to not disturb Yukiko but she heard him anyway and turned, beaming.

"Good morning," she said, and Akai caught glimpse of freshly washed dishes draining in the sink behind her. Guilt flooded him.

"Good morning, Yukiko-san. I apologize deeply for the mess."

"Mess?" Yukiko looked confused for a moment. "You mean these two things?" she motioned to the single plate and pan. Akai nodded. Yukiko smiled. "You call that a mess?"

"I uh... do you need help?"

"No, I'm almost finished. Have a seat."

He lowered himself down at the table as Yukiko dumped two small omelets on plates and set them on the place-mats. She poured them each a cup of green tea and sat beside him.

"Eat up," she instructed.

Akai didn't need to be told twice. Compared to his limited range of variety, the breakfast before him tasted divine. He told her as much and she glowed at the compliment. They spent the next few minutes eating in silence. When finished, Yukiko poured them each another cup of tea and she sat there for a moment, studying the agent with critical eyes. A bit unnerved, Akai touched his napkin to his lips. "Do I have something on my face?" he asked.

"No," Yukiko said, "and that's part of the problem."

"Huh?"

"Your disguise. You're not wearing it."

"Well, I didn't think I needed to, since I'm inside your home," he tried to explain even as Yukiko shook her head.

"You should never fall out of the habit of being in disguise. You should wear it always. Let Okiya Subaru _become_ you. You are now him. The more you wear it, the more it will feel like second nature. You shouldn't risk the slip-up."

He knew that, and felt ten times worse being lectured by a non-agent. She was right. He needed to stop being uncomfortable in his disguise. Though he was used to adopting a different persona, he still wasn't accustomed to wearing masks and wigs.

"If you want, we could try makeup only and skip the mask," Yukiko suggested in a thoughtful voice, tilting her head as she studied him. Akai winced. Yukiko chuckled. "Perhaps we could progress to that later." Her eyes drifted to the sink. "What were you trying to do?" she asked.

Akai shifted his gaze to the floor. "Cook," he admitted at last.

Yukiko turned back to him. "Have you been using the money in the safe?"

"Yes," he said. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Some." He felt so defensive around her.

"Not nearly enough."

She had checked?

She turned back to the sink. "What were you attempting to make?"

"Chicken curry." He added, "And rice."

"You burned rice?" Amusement tinged her voice. Akai flushed. That amused her more. "Come," she said, rising from the table. "You go shower and change. I won't harp on you to be in your Okiya disguise. I'll clean up breakfast and then we're going to learn." Her eyes gleamed. A tiny thread of fear coursed through Akai.

"Learn what?" he asked, a bit apprehensive.

"How to cook," she declared. "Now shoo, go on," she snatched his teacup off the table and shepherded him out of the room. He decided it would be wise to follow her directive.

* * *

"What do you know how to make?" Yukiko asked, thirty minutes later. Akai had showered and put on some comfortable clothes, along with the voice changer choker, though he didn't activate it. He needed to get used to the feeling of it around his neck. Yukiko proudly stood before him, dressed in a pink frilly apron.

Perhaps feeling merciful, she had thrust a manlier looking apron at him. He reluctantly tied it on. Sky blue stripes. Not _much_ manlier, but it was certainly better than pink lace.

"Uhm, coffee?" he said, even as Yukiko shook her head in pity.

"You lived in America, can't you even make some basic pasta?"

"If you enjoy lumpy glue-like concoctions, then yes." He really didn't like that look on her face. Creepy, really, how much she resembled Conan when he seized upon a deduction. It was frightening on a child. On Yukiko, he really didn't know what to make of it.

"A challenge!" she declared, clapping her hands together in excitement. She turned and set out two cutting boards and set them on the counter. "We will start with a basic stew. I'll let you pick our vegetables." She pulled out a large pot, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove.

He dug around in the refrigerator looking for adequate vegetables. A couple of carrots, some leeks, bok choy... he emerged with his selections.

"A nice start," Yukiko praised. "Is that all you want in our soup?" she asked.

"Er, maybe some noodles?" At her nod, he rummaged through the bins until finding a package of thick udon noodles. She reached in beside him and removed some leftover chicken from his failed curry experiment and an opened package of tofu. Then grabbed a pack of mushrooms as well.

"Soup is an easy one to start. You toss all your ingredients in together, and let it... well... stew. It's incredibly foolproof. The secret," she confided to him, "is to let it cook. Most people are so impatient they only let it cook for an hour before wanting to eat it. A good stew simmers all day long."

She washed the vegetables and divided them equally among the two of them. "You want your pieces to be bite-sized, but not too big " she demonstrated, dicing the vegetables with an expert hand, "so your cuts will be a bit smaller than what would be in a normal dish, but not too small to get dissolved by the broth. Perfect!" she praised his knife skills.

They dumped in the vegetables and some cubed tofu, and Yukiko pointed out a few spices. Akai spent a moment jotting a few notes down on a pad for later, though it was a bit hard to get exact measurements when all Yukiko would offer is "half a handful of this, no that's a bit too much," and "just a small dash... well for you it would be _two_ small dashes".

"Cooking isn't a science," she explained, "it's an art. Perfection isn't required for cooking. Taste your food often, and you'll rarely steer yourself wrong with spices."

They spent an hour cutting and slicing and cubing and stirring before Yukiko covered the pot and declared their work finished. "This will be ready for dinner."

"Dinner?" Akai asked. "What about lunch?"

"If you turn up the heat a bit, it could be ready for lunch, but it will taste much better for dinner," Yukiko assured him. "Ready to go work on your disguise?"

Hours later, he discovered she was right. The stew tasted amazing.

* * *

Akai practiced his soup making skills everyday that week. He often had so much leftover, he ended up carrying huge pots over to Agasa's house. He wondered if the professor actually enjoyed his cooking, or Haibara's forced diet left him in such a constant state of hunger that he would devour anything offered to him. Akai didn't mind. He found the routine of chopping, slicing, and meticulous stirring to be soothing. Oddly, he began to enjoy himself.

That week, Yukiko taught him how to cook rice.

Once shown the correct technique, and noted carefully the times and measurements of rice and water, he mastered that skill instantly.

And subsequently almost sickened himself on rice. Thankfully, Conan's friend Genta loved rice. Which allowed him even more opportunities to hang around Agasa's house without drawing _too_ much suspicion.

The following week, Yukiko showed him how to properly grill fish (skin side down!) and poultry (not that much oil!) and they enjoyed a rare complete meal courtesy of Akai's fledgling culinary skills. While they ate, Akai seized the opportunity to ask Yukiko something that had been on the back of his mind for a long time.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked.

Yukiko smiled as if she had been expecting this question for a long time. "Because it's the right thing to do?" she replied.

Akai's expression hardened. "Don't take me for a fool, Yukiko-san. There is plenty you could have done to help me without directly putting you and your entire family in danger. If the Organization were to discover my identity here, then most certainly you all would be killed."

Yukiko held her placid smile, unruffled by his ire. "Our lives have already been irrevocably altered by the Organization. One false misstep and I know we would be killed. That hasn't stopped my so- my stubborn husband from trying to help."

"Altered?" This was new information. Akai narrowed his eyes as he studied Yukiko. The former actress maintained her neutral expression. "And Conan-kun? He'll be most certainly killed as well."

Yukiko nodded, her mask fracturing for an instant as she bowed her head. "He is aware."

"And yet he is determined to involve himself?"

"I daresay even more so than Yusaku or me."

"Why?"

"Perhaps you should ask him that yourself."

Akai deflated and leaned back. "For a child, he is rather evasive."

Yukiko laughed aloud. "He is indeed." She waited a moment before changing topics. "Speaking of children, how are you handling the attention from Conan-kun's friends?"

Despite himself, Akai cracked his own grin. "They are quite something else, aren't they?"

"Full of energy," Yukiko added.

That's not quite what he meant, but didn't bother to correct the point. They chatted for a few more minutes before Yukiko stood to clear the table and Akai rose with her to assist. And it wasn't until later that evening, after he slipped into the library to select a novel to read in bed, when he spotted Yukiko in the corner of another room holding a picture frame to her chest, her shoulders heaving in silent sobs and tears pouring down her cheeks, that he began to suspect that the Kudos' connection to the Organization might possibly be even closer than his own.

But that still didn't quite explain Conan.

The following week, Yukiko showed him how to prepare a simple bento box from what novice skills he had acquired. They sat around the table assembling a few boxed lunches when Akai held up a newspaper he had purchased the previous day.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to an article on a folded section.

 _Famed Author Yusaku Kudo nominated for Best Original Script in Macademy Awards_ , the headline read.

Yukiko brightened. "Yusaku was so pleased when they informed him."

" _The Scarlet Agent_?" Akai questioned.

"Ah, well Yusaku often says he gets inspiration from all around him."

"That includes me, now?"

Yukiko blushed and set aside a finished bento before starting a new one. "Do you find it offensive?"

"No, actually I'm a bit flattered. I'd like to meet your husband one day."

Yukiko tilted her head in thought. "He's often said he would love to meet you, unfortunately his schedule doesn't much allow for traveling back and forth to Japan."

Akai listened as she talked about Yusaku's many novels (some of which he had read in the library) and how he could usually solve any mystery he stumbled upon. Akai idly wondered if some of Conan's ideas were first run by Yusaku to see if they would work. Probably not. Eerie kid, that one was.

Yukiko's voice broke through his musings. "Wonderful," she praised, admiring his completed bento boxes. Akai allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. "Say," Yukiko said, glancing at her watch, "have you seen Yusaku's movie?"

Akai shook his head. Watching over Haibara plus developing his skills demanded much of his time. Who knew dying required so much work?

"Want to? There's a showing in twenty minutes a couple of blocks away. We could catch the matinee and be home before school lets out."

Why not? He hadn't had much time for enjoyment lately. And he really wanted to see Yusaku's interpretation of him. They walked to the cinema, carrying two of their bento boxes for lunch. Akai approved of the movie. He could see how Yusaku's work could be nominated for Best Original Script.

The weeks passed. Akai's culinary skills developed more with each day, and he couldn't contain himself as he rushed over to Agasa's place with a steaming bowl of something or other to proudly show the professor. His abrupt and frequent appearances unnerved Haibara, who often descended into the basement whenever he knocked on the door, but he didn't care. She was safe. And he enjoyed talking to Agasa on an academic level.

And then the fateful day came. Akai had been eagerly awaiting this day since Yukiko first showed him how to properly saute vegetables. Back when this inevitable moment first became a possibility. Curry day.

He shopped the day before to select the freshest chicken. Peeked at a recipe book and ensured that all of the spices in the Kudo household were fully stocked. Grabbed several heavy-duty scouring pads, just in case. Removed the batteries in the smoke detectors. Laundered their aprons. He was ready.

Yukiko discovered him that morning already in the kitchen, washing and preparing the chicken. He shifted uncomfortably at her astonished expression. "I decided to get a head start. Am I doing this correctly?" He motioned with his knife to a few slices of chicken.

She examined his form and nodded her approval. She began measuring out the broth in large cups and dumping it into the pot Akai had placed on the stove.

"Low heat, right?" Akai asked, still cutting chicken, but watching her every move with focused intensity.

"Yes," she said. "Pay attention to your knife," she admonished as he continued to observe her even while slicing though the chicken with deft, precise strokes. "The last thing we need is for you to chop off a finger."

Akai smiled and obeyed, directing his attentions to the task at hand. She removed several more ingredients from the pantry and set them on the counter. When he completed the chicken, she turned on the stove and began to heat a saute pan. Akai held his breath. This was the part he messed up the first time he tried. But with her expert guidance, he carefully added the appropriate spices and cooked the chicken before adding it to the broth in careful spoonfuls.

"And now...," she declared.

"We let it stew?" Akai guessed, finishing her sentence.

She beamed at him. After stirring the pot a few times, she placed a lid upon it. "Shall we adjourn to the den?" she asked.

Akai grabbed his mug of coffee and notebook and followed Yukiko into the sitting room. He arranged himself comfortably on the couch and listened as she lectured and gave small pointers for his disguise. He seemed to be getting the hang of the basics of the disguise, though he still needed her help for a lot of the final details.

The door chime sounded, and Akai stood to answer it, casting a quick glance to Yukiko, who was already gathering her things. She followed him out of the door and ascended the staircase, intending to hide in one of the rooms upstairs. Akai waited until she was out of sight, activated his voice changing choker, and opened the door.

"Conan-kun," he exclaimed, startled. He peered behind the child for the rest of the Detective Boys.

"I came alone," Conan said in a dull tone, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stepping inside the door. Akai flicked off the voice changer.

"Is something wrong?" he questioned. "Ah, Yukiko-san," he called out, "it's safe."

Conan grimaced slightly at Akai's shout. He mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" Akai asked.

"It was nothing, I had forgotten this was her day to stop by and check on you," Conan remarked.

Yukiko bounded down the stairs. "Shin-Conan-kun!" she cried. Conan glared at her. She ignored him and darted over, smothering him in a hug. Akai stifled a grin. It wasn't often he got to see the kid perturbed, and he rather enjoyed watching the clever boy unsuccessfully evade Yukiko's overt affections.

"Ergh, Yukiko-oba- _ouch_ -oneesan, you're strangling me," Conan managed to say at last.

Yukiko reluctantly released her hold upon Conan and stood back up. "What a pleasant surprise, Conan-kun, is there anything we can do for you?"

Conan grunted unintelligibly, then said in a louder voice, "I just wanted to discuss something with Akai-san."

"I'll go check on the curry then, and leave you two alone." Yukiko wandered off toward the kitchen.

Conan looked at Akai. "Curry?" he questioned.

Akai nodded. "Yukiko is an excellent cook. She's been teaching me whenever she comes over on the weekends."

Conan sniffed the air. "Smells great. That explains why your cooking has improved lately."

Akai guided Conan to the library. "Was it that bad before?" he questioned.

Conan blanched. "N-no, it wasn't _that_ bad...," he began, "the professor certainly enjoyed it."

Well, that certainly said something when a six-year-old felt obligated to spare your feelings. Akai dropped the subject. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked as they settled in. Conan hopped up on a lounge chair opposite Akai.

"I believe one of the members of the Organization is disguising himself as you and trying to get reactions from your friends," Conan said.

Akai nodded. "Good, we agree on something. The Red Shirts?"

Conan nodded back. "That's what you meant, wasn't it?" he asked, referring to Akai's parting words that day.

"Yes."

"I don't suppose I need to tell you this, but you should remain extra vigilant."

"I have been," Akai assured him.

Conan visibly relaxed. He smiled at Akai.

"Was that all you wanted to tell me?" Akai asked. "Seems like a lot of trouble to come over here just to inform me of that."

Conan shrugged. "It's no trouble. I can go now, if you want to talk to Yukiko-san some more."

"I heard her go upstairs a few minutes ago. Tell me some of the cases you've encountered lately."

Perking up, Conan launched into a detailed explanation of some murder he just happened to chance upon last week. Akai hid a smile as he listened, correctly deducing the culprit and the trick. The agent could certainly relate to wanting to talk to an intellectual equal. Professor Agasa and Yukiko helped, but sometimes he just needed to exercise his mind. He missed his FBI colleagues, but didn't dare risk involving them until the Organization threat surrounding him had abated.

Conan stayed for dinner, tasting the curry and declaring it delicious in a rather shocked tone. Akai smiled. A genuine, unfiltered, happy smile. He had done it. Elation filled him. He had finally conquered chicken curry. He could take on anything right now.

Maybe his next mystery will be figuring out that kid.


End file.
